My Promise To You
by Ballad of the Fool
Summary: 1916-The beginning of the Russian Revolution-Ivan is caught between two duties; to serve his country, or to protect the royals that he loves so dearly. Human named used and a little bit of Russia/Anastasia.


**Author's Note**: So I've been working on this piece since November. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed listening to the Prologue song on the soundtrack on repeat. (I enjoyed it really.) This is based around 1917, before the Russian Revolution, and Ivan hasn't hit the point of complete insanity yet, so he may seem a bit OOC in here, and I apologize for that. So enjoy it and please do let me know if you liked it. I used a translator for the few Russian words in here so I'm sorry if they came out horribly wrong.

**Disclaimer**: Ivan Braginsky does not belong to me, nor does Anastasia Romanov. I only own the thoughts of what if the two were combined.

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"Ivan!" The little girl called out with her arms stretched out towards the tall, pale blonde male. His light lavender eyes fell to the ground where the girl stood and let out a soft chuckle as he bent down towards her.

"_Да, маленький_?" He questioned her in a friendly tone. The little girl twirled in her place, showing off her pretty little dress, fashioning a big smile as well. "Ah, you have the party tonight, don't you Anastasia?" He stood back up; the girl did not seem to want to let him leave as she clung to his pant leg.

"Yes, Ivan. Will you be joining all of us?"

Ivan did not answer, feeling some sort of lump within his stomach—just keeping one of his pleasant smiles on his face. "Of course, _мало герцогиня_." There was a hint of hesitance, the little girl pouted,

"Promise me, Ivan."

Ivan laughed and nodded again, "I promise you, Anya." The Grand Duchess couldn't help but grin at his answer. "Would you like me to escort you to your father, Grand Duchess?" With a light nod, Anastasia daintily placed her gloved hand upon his forearm, where he had bent his arm for her to take. Slowly he walked so that she would be able to keep up with his pace.

As they moved closer, the sounds of grand music echoed throughout the beautifully decorated hallways. Ivan could feel the excitement that little Anastasia was containing as her fingers couldn't decide whether to loosen or tighten their grip upon his royal blue uniform.

Ivan had barely even opened the massive door when Anastasia let go of his sleeve and began running towards her father, who was dancing with Grand Duchess Olga for the moment. She glanced back towards Ivan with a cute little grin upon her face, as he stopped in his tracks to only move his arms behind his back, holding his wrists within his own hands. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of the little girl's happiness.

Turning back around, the little Duchess ran up to her father and was lifted into the air and spun around. In the while, Ivan was torn between the thought of leaving or moving beside the throne.

The blonde sighed, having finally decided to leave the party, and was then struck by another feeling—he heard the laughter of the little girl. Letting out a more aggravated groan, Ivan eliminated his first decision and began to move along the outside of the large group. He could hear all of the people laughing and enjoying themselves, "Hm," he hummed, "my people seem to be happy here." He mumbled, stilling holding his arms behind his back, letting himself scan the area with the corners of his lavender eyes.

He stood close, but not too close, to the royal throne, just watching the crowds dancing and clapping with the sounds of the music. This must have been one of the more… happier times of his frozen life in the snow-covered land of Imperial Russia.

Another woman appeared by the throne, for the sight of Anastasia waving like a mad man, woman in this case, caught his eye. Her grandmother had arrived. Anastasia loved her grandmother. So of course, by this time, if given a chance to escape, this would be the perfect time since the young Duchess would be so focused on her grandmother. But still, he did not leave.

Still he stood by the throne as she ran to her. He saw their lips moving but did not hear their voices. Ivan only stood there, watching their actions, watching her pull out a little contraption along with a necklace, but not handing over the little shining necklace. The older woman opened the little contraption. Ivan waited for a moment of happiness of receiving some sort of jewelry but nothing ever came out. So he waited a little more and could have sworn to have heard a familiar tune coming from the little box. Suddenly, the young voice called out.

"Paris, really?!" Such a happy voice, it was. But for some reason, the Russian felt his heart sink within his chest. "Oh grandmamma!" She exclaimed, flinging herself at the older woman for a hug.

He sighed, turning his eyes away from the pair. A sinking feeling came into his stomach—something was going to happen, and he did not like the feel of it.

Suddenly, the doors opened and the Russian felt as if a massive shadow over took the palace as a dark figure walked into the grand room.

"Rasputin."

That word hissed from his mouth as Nicholas—his darling Nicholas—lashed out at the male, yelling and tell him to leave the land. He was no longer welcomed here. Ivan could feel the anger that was boiling up inside of Czar Nicholas—this was also an urge that the pale blonde Russian would have to ignore. But his eyes glanced back towards little Anya, as her tiny hands grasped the clothing of her grandmother, as if trying to disappear from the, so-called, holy man. His fists balled up tightly as Rasputin began to speak,

"You dare to banish the great Rasputin? By the dark powers vested in me, I banish you, with a curse. Mark my words; you and your family will be dead within a fortnight. I will not rest until I see the end of the Romanov line forever!" Rasputin yelled, raising his hand towards one of the massive chandeliers with his shining green little trinket. Its magic shot out a fire that managed to pull down the large object. At the sight of that, Ivan quickly ran to the protection of Nicholas, shielding him from any stray shards that may have fired out upon impact of the ground.

"Enough! Get rid of him!" Ivan barked out his commands as the guards quickly disposed of the mad monk. He, as well, went to leave but the tiny voice called out to him, twisting his heart to make him stay and turn towards her.

"Ivan!" Her voice certainly had some ability to catch his attention.

"Da, little one?" He spoke, almost sounding as if she was beginning to test his patience, and he would not be one to last very long in a race like that.

"I'm going to Paris with Grandmamma." She told him, he merely chuckled.

"I doubt that your father, his majesty, would allow you to go with her. You are staying here." He told her, perking up a brow at her cute innocent laughter that came after he spoke.

"Not now, Vanya. When I grow up a little." She told him, "She gave me a necklace and it says, 'Together in Paris,' so I'll be going then." She explained, "And when that does happen, I want you to come with me." She told him. Why did it feel as if his heart stopped at that very moment? "I need you to protect me there, like you do here." She giggled lightly, he let out a bit of a nervous laugh.

"I'll protect you, anyway I can." He smiled weakly.

"Do you promise?"

"Of course, Grand Duchess, I promise." He nodded. He would never let that promise down. Not until the day he would die, but he knew that day wouldn't be for such a long time.

Day and weeks began to pass. His time wasn't being spent with Anastasia very often, but more with Alexei or having to protect the Czarina Alix of Hesse. Though, every now and then, Ivan would find himself without sleep as he wandered through the halls, passing by Anastasia's room, hearing that sound from the music box she had received from her beloved grandmother. He rubbed his eyes, both tired and blood shot from the recent chaos that has been wrecking his beloved homeland. But still, he continued on passed the little girl's room and back towards his own, hoping for even the smallest amount of sleep.

But what he knew to come, he had to be sworn to secrecy, never to share with his beloved Czar. For an attack was plan, a riot, and he was told that he would have to help lead this riot against the Czar; it was for the good of his people. Mother Russia had to look out for her children.

For it was time for the Russian Revolution.

There was a loud bang and suddenly Ivan's head was in massive amounts of pain. The Bolsheviks were storming the palace and his darling royals were being killed off like flies, but from the corner of his eye, he could see the old woman and little Anastasia running to possibly escape. "Let her escape. Just let her escape." He mumbled to himself as he had to keep moving, making himself appear like he was doing something for his brothers. But as soon as Anastasia ripped her hand from her grandmothers, his heart tore to pieces, "No!" His head doubled over in pain—to help his people? Or save his little treasure? His violet eyes looked out as he let out a harsh groan from his throat, "I promised." He spoke softly, "I vowed to protect her." He began to move quickly towards the girl who was running back into the palace halls, "And protect her I shall!"

"Empress, please go to the train, I will make sure of Anastasia's arrival to the train myself." Ivan told the old woman, stepping in front of her.

The woman tried to move past him, but gave him an angered look, "You're one of them! How can I trust you! My Anastasia will die if you don't let me go after her!" She tried again, but he held her in her place with his hands upon her shoulders.

"You have to trust me." Ivan spoke firmly, "I care for her as much as you do." This must have caught the woman off-guard since she did not push against him anymore but turned away and moved quickly towards the doors to escape the palace in time. Ivan quickly turned and ran to catch up with the little girl he found so dear to himself.

"Anastasia!" He called out, running after her towards her little playroom where she held her little music box in hand.

"Ivan!" She cried, running into him, "I'm scared!"

"It's okay, little one. We must leave, now." But it was too late for them to leave the way that they came. Then a boy opened a door in the wall that the servants would use.

"Quickly, through there!" The servant boy told them, ushering Anastasia inside, Ivan turned to the boy.

"Thank you." He nodded and Anastasia cried out for her little music box that she dropped while being pushed. Everything was just happening so fast as Ivan just told her to keep moving. The wall was closed behind them and Ivan could hear the Bolsheviks entering the room, yelling at the boy. But Ivan had to keep moving, he had to keep Anastasia safe. Finally, they managed to escape the palace.

But they had to run. Run so fast, he had to make that she made it to the train, that he wasn't shot down by one of his 'comrades' for helping someone who was the daughter of a 'felon.' Ivan grabbed the small girl by the hand and just kept on running until he was knocked over by someone who was on his back. Already full of rage, the feelings of his people just seemed to overflow in his mind--Ivan whipped the being from over his shoulder and threw it on the ground. It just so happened to be Rasputin. For a moment, Ivan could help but feel victorious for his actions; he had wanted to do that for the longest of times.

Ivan could feel the ice cracking from under Rasputin, so the blonde quickly grabbed Anastasia—while Rasputin had tried grabbing the girl for himself--pulling her up into his arms and moved away from the mad monk. The girl let out a soft whimper as she clung to his clothing. He stood there breathing. He was in shock, why? He didn't even know himself, but he quickly began running again as he heard the train whistle in the distance, "Anastasia!" He began to speak through his breath, "I promise that I will never let anything hurt you. I promise that I will stay by your side." Inhale. Exhale. The cold air stung his lungs—he should have been used to it by now. "I promise I will get you to that train!" He forced himself to move faster, the crowds started to become thicker with people trying to get both on and off and possibly escape this mess.

"Anastasia!" He could hear the grandmother call out, Ivan began to feel her dropping from his grasp, she wanted to run to be with her grandmother. He would have to do this carefully—"Grandmamma!" She called back to the woman in such a frightened voice.

"As soon as your feet touch the ground, I want you to run so fast, like you're trying to fly." Ivan told her, carefully changing the girls position in his arms to put her down on the ground. '_One, two…_' He place her feet barely above the ground, "Run, Anastasia!" He commanded so fiercely that the girl began running after the train towards her grandmother. Ivan knew he would never be able to make it—someone grabbed on to the back of his jacket and bashed him over his head with something, making him fall to the ground as he caught the sight of Anastasia touching her grandmother's hand. His vision blurred as he felt his hands being grabbed and his body being pulled the other way. "Please, let her escape." He murmured before closing his eyes.

He did not see the small girl lose grip on the older woman's hand. He did not see her fall to the ground, or hit her head on the platform. He did not know the she would lose her memories, that she would forget him.

But she would forever live on in his memories—as the small girl who would laugh and smile when Ivan greeted her, or asked her to dance when no one was looking, or when she treated him with such kindness that he would forget the other evils of the world.


End file.
